HARRISON. Would it were! That war is still deferred.
Our news is draff, And void of spirit, since New
England turns
A fresh cheek to the slap of Britain's palm.
Great God! I am amazed at such supineness.
Our trade prohibited, our men impressed,
Our flag insulted--still her people bend,
Amidst the ticking of their wooden clocks,
Bemused o'er small inventions. Out upon't!
Such tame submission yokes not with my spirit,
And sends my southern blood into my cheeks,
As proxy for New England's sense of shame.

2ND COUNCILLOR. We all see, save New England, what to
do;
But she has eyes for her one interest--
A war might sink it. So the way to war
Puzzles imagining.

HARRISON. There is a way
Which lies athwart the President's command.
The reinforcements asked for from Monroe
Are here at last, but with this strict injunction,
They must not be employed save in defence,
Or in a forced attack.

[_Taking up a letter_.]

Now, here is news, Fresh from the South, of bold